How I Got Here
by S. Winter-Fitzgerald
Summary: For Jane, her mother's return brings back both memories and questions. My contribution to February's Challenge of MFMM Year of Quotes.
1. Chapter 1

_"I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do." — F. Scott Fitzgerald_

Jane was exhausted close to inertia but she couldn't sleep. She shut her eyes and tried to slow down her breathing yet it wasn't enough to soothe her mind and let her embrace slumber. That had felt like the longest day. Well, the longest days, actually, with Kitty's death, Rose almost getting killed, all the turmoil involved in the Flower Maidens event, the moment she had first noticed her mother pacing in front of the house and the dramatic development of her night-time visit to the boarding house. Just going through it mentally was tiring enough.

Tucked in her own bed, with the clothes pulled up to her nose, Jane was safe now. Safe and relieved, eased by the knowledge that her mother was being well looked after at Aster House, a comfortable facility in the outskirts of the city where she would be able to get the help she needed, shielded from the close to horrifying conditions of most psychiatric hospitals, and where she could visit her anytime she wanted.

At first, her mother had declined Miss Fisher's gesture. She appreciated her kindness, but she couldn't bring herself to accept it and be another burden, especially since she had been taking such good care of her Jane already. She would never be able to pay back such expense nor concern. Miss Phryne had assured her that her assistance would never come with a price and neither would it happen regarding Jane's education and keep. That's what guardians and family did. For starters, she could stay with them for some days until she decided what she was going to do. That offer had seemed simple enough for her mother to take and she had heartily and honestly thanked Miss Fisher. She could help with the house chores, she was good at that and she would be very careful this time and double check everything she did. Miss Fisher had acquiesced, as Mr Butler and Dot would certainly find the help welcome, she had said. The prospective of being useful had brought out a certain liveliness to her mother that had both pleased and frightened Jane. I was obviously good to see her feel invigorated and involved, but Jane knew by experience that it would all come crashing down soon.

«Mother», Jane had said as they sat by the bay window to read a couple more pages of a Henry Lawson short story. «I am very glad to have you here», she smiled as encouragingly as she could muster. Jane was sincere, she had seen her mother for the last time too many years ago.

«I am so happy too, Jane», Anna said, squeezing her daughter's hands between hers, smiling back, her eyes shining with love.

The girl nodded, unsure about how to approach the situation at hand.

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A/n: First of all, thank you for reading the first chapter of this fic. You'll be able to find the following ones right away.

As mentioned in the synopsis, this is my contribution to February's Challenge of MFMM Year of Quotes.

Given that it's February, the Valentine's thing, the quotes presented, and how I've already mentioned both Fitzgerald and Jane Austen in previous fics and MFMM context, I thought I would dive into this with Phryne x Jack feels first, but it turned out that Jane was the one that came into my mind when it was time to actually write.

Once again, I've chosen not to read further about the quote or its context and go from what those precise words elicited in me.

Apart from the glimpse into Jane's life at the horrid boarding house, we know very little of how she got there and what happened and while what we saw was rather loveless, it was possible to see that Anna did care for her daughter and given Jane's behaviour, I got the feeling that she would have had people who cared about her before she had come to Wardlow. Basically, that's the fic. A long headcanon I had never actually considered until now, but which I have included in my view of the MFMM world.

I acknowledge that it may get sad sometimes but apparently my current niche is 'sad and depressing fic'. Perhaps not what you are looking for when you do search for stories to read, but I hope it's not too disappointing if you decide to read it.

As usual, your feedback is deeply appreciated. I love to hear from you.

Thank you again and I hope you enjoy this story.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane might have been even younger back then, but she remembered seeing her mother prostrated in bed, silence thickening the air around her, unwilling to eat even a slice of bread, unable to get up, tend to herself, Jane or the house.

«Your mother always had some spells of melancholy but I never saw her like this», her maternal aunt had told Jane one day as she prepared a glass of milk for Anna. Sometimes, Helen was the only person able to coax her into eating something, reassuringly guaranteeing her that no one had tampered with the food. Helen had seen it delivered, had bought it herself, had cooked it and tasted it, «you can it eat without a single worry». But Anna needed convincing before taking any bite. «I didn't warn Edward enough, he died, and now they want to kill me too», she would repeat, crying as her sister waited patiently. Eventually, she would eat.

Anna had worked as a chambermaid once but she had been let go once she was too pregnant to carry on with the heavier tasks. She had meant to find some work but the war was still on and her situation made her unhireable at the factories that men had vacated, no matter the very loose clothes she wore and how she pretended not to be expecting a child. That struggle had deteriorated her mind and her body and the ultimate blow had come in form of a telegramme informing her that her husband had died in Gallipoli. The shock had sent her into labour two weeks earlier than what was supposed to and Jane had been born in her parents' room with the help of Mrs O'Connor, the elderly neighbour who had heard Anna's wails of despair from her yard, amid screams of pain and «I told Edward not to go to war», repeated over and over again with different kinds of intonation, from regretful to angry, from sadness to resignation.

The newness of motherhood had helped keeping her together, but as time went by and Jane grew, Anna became more withdrawn, leaving her daughter to be raised mostly by Mrs O'Connor and Aunt Helen until she was able to fend for herself at least at a very elementary level.

Her aunt had made her promise Jane would go to school every day, her mother would manage until then and Jane would do her homework and some light chores until Helen arrived from work, later in the day.

Jane did as told but it broke her heart everyday as she kissed her mother goodbye before leaving. Most days, Anna didn't even notice her. As she grew up, Jane realized that her mother didn't do it to harm her and that she loved her deeply but for a child it was hard to understand it when her mother barely looked at her, talked to her or stroke her cheek.

From now and then, Anna would get up from bed, make her toast or cake and real aloud, she would find a job for some weeks and things seemed normal for a while, Jane thinking «so this is what having a mother feels like» but even unconsciously there was some reserve on her part, to protect herself from the disillusion that was to come perhaps.

Sometimes Jane found herself wishing Aunt Helen was her mother. She worked all day, caught three trams to get to her sister's house, arranged it, did some laundry, helped Anna the best she could, served them dinner, regaled Jane with tales of her days at the hotel, offered her encouraging words, helped Jane wash her hair (she didn't want her doing it by herself, fearing possible hot water burns), and caught other three trams to go back to her accommodation. (Helen could have moved to Anna's house but living in the hotel-run boarding house allowed her to save some very needed money to help at the Rosses.) Jane admired her for her strength and also for the warmth that shone through her beautiful but tired smile. Like Anna, Helen had dark hair and an olive complexion - Edward had been the blond, fair one - and her movements emanated efficiency.

She would tell Jane stories of their childhood, Edward's life and her parents' courtship, how they had met as Edward delivered bread to the hotel every morning, Anna before her life had crumbled. «I don't do this to make you sad. Tell me to stop if you want», Helen stated. Jane never asked her to, she did get a bit sad but she liked to hear of a time when her mother was lively. Jane's fanciful imagination could even draw up those memories from her mother's weary features. In those days, Jane would hug her mother, apologising in silence for sometimes loving her more in those moments than now. Anna would hold her limply and mutter «Jane, my dear sweet Jane». She would try to stop her tears, she didn't mean to distress her, but it was too difficult.

(Jane's feelings towards her father were different. She wished she had met him, but she couldn't say she missed him since there was nothing for her to miss him for).

Aunt Helen's workload picked up. She couldn't make it to them every day anymore and Jane took upon herself to take care of her mother and of the house. She still went to school as she had promised her aunt but as soon as it was over, Jane wouldn't stop for a minute, busy with chores and odd jobs around the neighbourhood to earn some extra money or food. She was so tired by the end of the day, there were evenings where she fell asleep at the kitchen table, the empty plate of her soup pushed aside.

When she was there, Helen insisted for her to go to bed as soon as possible, but Jane could never sleep and ended up helping her anyway.

«My Jane, my dear sweet Jane. I am very very sorry for not being the mother you need and deserve. I want to be better, but I don't seem to be able to, you see. I don't deserve you. Thank you so much for everything», Anna had told her one day when Jane had come in to bring her dinner. Jane rushed to place the tray on her mother's lap and ran out of the room, sobs starting to engulf her like a wave. Anna repeated her apologies and her thanks sincerely from now and then. Jane steeled herself and never ran away again, aware that her previous reaction had upset her mother, given the dark shadow that had fallen over her eyes, but it took her a lot of effort to be able to act like that.

One day, the frail strings that bound Jane's world together snapped. She had arrived home about ten minutes ago, had already made her mother some toast for tea and was sorting out clothes to launder when she heard a knock on the door. It was odd. Aunt Helen had her own key and Mrs O'Connor called her name first so Jane would know it was her and wouldn't get scared.

Jane got a knife from the kitchen drawer – just in case and said:

«Who is it?», her voice as steady as she could, thinking now that maybe it would have been best to pretend no one was home. Jane might be smart and resourceful but she was still a twelve year old, not particularly strong nor well-equipped to face an intruder.

«Jane?», a woman's voice came from the other side of the door.

She didn't reply. It wasn't Mrs O'Connor nor any voice she recognised.

«Jane», the woman repeated, «I know we haven't met but I'm Gloria, Gloria Burton, Helen's colleague at the hotel and her roommate at the lodgings».

Aunt Helen had told her about Gloria, «apart from your mother, she is my best friend», she had said. She had always made sure that while she loved Jane and was ready to help her in anything she needed, they were family, not supposed to be mates.

Jane clutched the handle of the knife and unlocked the door with the free hand. She opened it just a sliver, enough to see the woman's face. Slightly bug-like blue eyes framed by blond waves and a navy hat. Jane mentally swapped the cloche for the chambermaid white headpiece and tried to envision her coat in black instead of blue. The woman was telling the truth – Jane recognised her from a photo Aunt Helen had shown her some months ago, the whole staff of the The Windsor standing in front of the hotel to celebrate another anniversary of the revered institution.

«Has something happened to my aunt?», Jane's voice sounded much more squeaky than she could have wished but she was just a scared child, her mind stinging with the everything that could have befallen her.

«Can I come in?», Gloria asked, her blue eyes trying to convey some warmth.

Jane stepped aside and let her come through, feeling her eyes prick with tears along every step Gloria took until she was by the sofa, waiting for Jane as she would for any hostess. Jane moved towards her, expecting her to sit. After all, Jane might be at home but Miss Burton was older than her and the guest. They stood in silence for a couple of seconds looking at each other.

«Is your mother home?», Gloria said eventually. It wasn't time to abide by too much etiquette.

«She's asleep, but I can help you».

Something wasn't right and she wouldn't let her mother in until she knew what it was. She wasn't sure she would be able to handle it, but she wanted to protect her at all costs nevertheless.

«Is there a friend nearby that you can call?»

Jane shook her head. There was Agnes but what could she do? She was probably her best friend but even if she had to help care for her siblings, she could still run to her parents and cry on their shoulders. She could never understand.

«Or Mrs O'Connor, maybe?», Gloria offered, sitting down. The poor girl was trying to be strong and not being able to help her broke her heart, but she didn't know what to do.

«No, thank you, Miss Burton», Jane said, sitting down too. Why couldn't Gloria say what she had come to say at once? Jane's strength had dimmed to a flicker in its last glow.

Gloria opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, as if the sentences she needed could be summoned by that gesture.

«There was a tram accident this afternoon», she said eventually.

Jane's eyes grew large. If she didn't close her eyes, Gloria wouldn't continue talking and Aunt Helen wouldn't be dead.

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A/n: Thank you for reading this chapter. I hope you liked it.

Feedback is appreciated as usually.


	3. Chapter 3

_It can't be._ Even when Jane was at school, cooking, doing laundry or in her bed, she kept thinking _it can't be._

Jane knew her aunt had been on the evening shift for turndown service, that as she was getting on the tram to go to work, the brakes had had some sort of issue, the train had jumped, making Helen fall and hit her head on the pavement. Jane knew she had gone to the hospital but it had been too late. Jane had cried herself empty, first in front of Gloria and then in Mrs O'Connor's arms, (Gloria had thought best to seek someone who knew the girl better). Jane had gone to the small funeral. Jane was aware of Aunt Helen's death every single time she pretended she wasn't dead when Anna was awake and alert and yet Jane kept thinking _it can't be._

Jane decided she wouldn't tell her mother just yet. She wouldn't be able to take it. Gloria and Mrs O'Connor wanted otherwise, and as adults, their judgment was supposed to prevail but she begged and begged and argued her case and was able to sway them, for the time being at least. They didn't know Anna like Jane did. It was for the best.

Anna was too apathetic to realise anything that day, sleeping for hours on end and barely eating but she started mumbling her sister's name. Jane nearly dropped the basin she held on her lap, scared that someone had revealed the terrible news. «Where's Aunt Helen?», «Tell Aunt Helen that the milk was too hot», «Aunt Helen's soup was very good». But Jane's relief was short-lived. She couldn't be sure her mother hadn't heard anything and that the present tense wasn't a manifestation of that thick, confusing, and unfathomable daze that took hold of her and which blinded Anna to anything else but those things she was the only one able to see and hear.

«Aunt Helen in on the evening shift now, she won't be able to come that often, but don't worry, she always asks for you», «there's a lot of people at the hotel», «was the milk better today?», «Did you enjoy the soup?». For the time, those deflecting replies seemed to be enough to sate her mother's curiosity but Jane worried about what could happen if her mother felt better and got out of bed, even if it didn't seem that likely soon. Every word burned in Jane's mouth when she spun those tales, their flimsiness tearing her apart. She was doing it for a good, noble reason, Jane argued with herself every night. It was for a good, noble reason.

As most lies, this one also came to an end. Jane had thought about whether she should lock the doors while she was in school but in the end she had thought it best not to. Her mother might need to leave the house in a hurry in case of fire or flood or any other sort of emergency. Besides, she barely got out of bed anyway.

When Jane arrive at her house that day, she found Mrs O'Connor sitting by the door, Margaret sleeping in her arms and John playing with a toy car at her feet. If she had brought her grandchildren, she had been waiting there for quite some time.

«Mrs O'Connor», her name was almost a whisper in Jane's lips.

Mary O'Connor raised her eyes to the girl and found herself holding her granddaughter to her chest even closer.

«Jane… I am sorry, my dear, but your mother has been committed». Mrs O'Connor wished she could have been gentler, but she trusted it was better to be straightforward.

«Committed?», one of Jane's worst fears contained in such a bland word.

Mrs O'Connor nodded.

«I am sorry, my dear». She reached out her hand and caressed Jane's cheek with her thumb. «Apparently, she got out of the house and went around the neighbourhood in her night clothes searching desperately for your aunt, screaming her name and also mumbling to herself. She didn't hurt anybody, but someone told her Helen had died, perhaps trying to bring her to reason, she walked into traffic, caused an accident, the police was called and they took her away. I was putting the sheets out to dry when I saw the constable, they had come looking for a next of kin.»

Jane slid to the ground, draining next to a startled John, a ragdoll dropped suddenly.

She cried quietly for a bit, it slowly turning into sobs that shook her to the core. If only she had told her mother sooner, she could have dealt better with her reaction, found a way to keep her close and unharmed. Guilt weighted every tear that ran down her face.

Mrs O'Connor's knees didn't let her sit by Jane, but she gently guided her head to her legs, tenderly running her hand over the girl's hair, and that's how Jane cried years' worth of difficulty until the social worker came and took her away too.

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A/n: Thank you for reading this chapter too. I hope you enjoyed it.


	4. Chapter 4

Jane asked the social worker, the constable, and the staff at the orphanage about her mother. She either got «don't worry, everything will be right as rain» or «I don't know», and just like that Anna was swallowed by Melbourne psychiatric facilities as Jane, with all the Rosses and the Clarkes missing or dead, was swallowed by the welfare system, apparently lost to each other forever.

Those two years at the boarding house stealing for Gay and Merton were feeling like a decade. She had been through much before but the memories of those times were almost comforting in the middle of the night, as she tried to fall asleep under the ratty old blanket next to Ruth, another girl chewed out by a hard life but who clung to the hope of living with her grandmother again someday.

Jane missed her mother, wondered about where she might be, she missed school, the chores, Mrs O'Connor and her friendly face and her butter biscuits. She had wished she could have taken the girl in but she already had five grandchildren in her care and a very tight purse. Jane had felt small and afraid and unwanted but she understood her reasons and couldn't fault her, even if she had to work hard at the boarding house and steal to eat and earn her keep now. Even if another piece of love had been snatched away.

Jane was persistent and smart, tried and tried and picked up skills she wished she had never had to learn but she would hang on, sooner or later she would leave that house and go back to hers. She meant to keep asking the social workers about any clues regarding her mother, but no one ever came to check on the girls. One day, she had dared to ask Gay and it had gotten her was a slap in the face so hard her cheek seemed to be on fire and no meagre portion for dinner at all, in spite of the seven coins she had brought home that night. Ruth told her that when the social workers did come and asked about the girls, they were told they were «at school, where else should children be at those hours» and tired, overworked or simply bored, no one bothered to come at another time.

Those hardships chipped away at her but her thirst for knowledge didn't subside. Jane avidly read discarded newspapers and magazines and lost books she found on the trams or the stations or the gardens, keeping these treasures in an empty tree trunk in an abandoned backyard a couple of streets down, preciously wrapped in an old sheet that had flown away from a clothesline somewhere during a burst of Melbourne's unstable weather. Jane liked Ruth, but she couldn't help but conceal these from her, relishing in the delight of having at least one last thing that was truly hers. She wasn't proud of it, but she had stolen a pencil once from an artist's case in Alexandra Gardens and she used it to copy what she was reading onto the empty margins of her newspapers, magazines, and books. She didn't want to lose practice and while the broken pencil trembled in her hand sometimes at the beginning, she soon found her back to writing.

Jane liked to travel on the trams that came and went from the schools and from the university, picking up snippets of information like soap bubbles floating in the air. Later, she would have to catch up and make up for the lost time so she would have enough coins to give her a shot at dinner, but she didn't mind the extra hassle. As she rode these, she could pretend, at least for an instant, that she was the one on her way to school, a student like all the other girls and boys with satchels and a handful of books under their arms.

But it wasn't enough. It could never be enough and after having enquired after an Anna Ross at every hospital she could think of but always being kicked out of the receptions like an unwanted request, Jane gave up. As far as she knew, her mother could be dead by now, considering her situation and what she knew about the terrible conditions of the asylums in the city – the names might have been changed, but the processes not so much.

The increasing frustration and despair had probably been why she had stabbed Merton in the hand when he had accused Ruth of robbing him. Jane had been looking for a reason to run away and the fear that fuelled her from that moment on was as good as any other motive. There were fancy people on that train to Ballarat. Perhaps she could get some money and try to make a life for herself there, for a while at least until it was safe to go back to Melbourne (Ruth would never want to come, fearing it could mean parting with her grandmother for good). It wasn't as if Jane would be any less protected in another city. If something were to happen to her, it wouldn't be Merton or Gay that would come to her help. She didn't have anything to lose.

For a moment, it had seemed that the jewels thrown onto the field would be the ticket to that new life. Jane was no expert, but they didn't look like trinkets, jewellery was valuable and she thought she was smart enough to not be (too) fooled. But instead of a way out they turned into more complications. Jane wasn't very keen on the Police, not only because they had been the ones who had taken her mother away but also because if they were to return her somewhere, it would be to Gay and Merton's hands. The fancy lady seemed a little bit nicer but she was trying to extract information from her after all, her concern was probably just a façade to earn her trust. She would never care if a thieving orphan ended up in jail or not. Yet, Jane's defence instincts had come before her thoughts and she cracked the silence she had been trying to build up. She wouldn't go to jail, she hadn't killed anyone. It might be another side of the fancy lady's plan, but Jane caved a little when her voice had grown smoother and she had told her she believed her. Jane was so used to not being believed, it came as a surprise. _Jane_ , she offered, finally replying to the fancy lady's question about her name. It seemed to have hit some unseen wound in her, and while Jane didn't want to trust her just because of it, she hadn't refused going back to Melbourne with her. It was definitely a better option than going with the Police and it might guarantee her a hot meal and somewhere to sleep for that day at least.

When Mr Butler had told her that her aunt was in the parlour, Jane's mind had first gone to Aunt Helen until she was hit once again with the cold realisation that it was impossible. It was late, but afterwards, she hoped it might perhaps be Mrs O'Connor, believing that blood could weigh more than a concerned neighbour. She had kept her head down, humbly. She was so ashamed and frightened. Would Mrs O'Connor still like her after being told she had been caught with stolen things? Gay's voice sent a shiver down her. In that moment, Jane would have traded that for Mrs O'Connor disappointment in a heartbeat. She was terrified. Everything she had tried to escape had followed her to that house. Jane pleaded for Miss Fisher's help, forgetting her reserves about how she might be being used in order to further the investigation into the old lady's death or how Miss Fisher would probably throw her in the street once she had served her purpose.

Miss Fisher's stern opposition to Gay came as a small relief. She could have handed Jane right away yet she hadn't but while the interest in her voice and the care in her hand seemed as genuine as Jane could ascertain, she still couldn't tell Miss Fisher everything. She would never be able to tell anyone about everything. But Miss Fisher didn't give up and without making her feel under pressure, Jane had finally felt safe enough to confide in her about the horrid conditions at the boarding house at least, a feeling strengthened by how she had dismissed 'state care' in front of the Inspector and how she quietly conveyed her trust in Jane as she told what she had seen to the policeman.

Yet, Jane didn't feel she was completely secure. Her senses were attuned to any change and she knew enough of life to prepare for ahead. It could all be taken away in a wink and it was with no hesitation that she had gotten Ruth in and they had ransacked Miss Fisher's jewellery box. Gay knew where she was and she would come after her anytime now. Jane planned on being as far away as possible when that time came. She had never counted on Miss Fisher being back so soon though. When she saw her in the threshold, it felt like everything had come into focus and Jane realised what she was doing, stealing and planning on conning someone who had been of such help. Embarrassment and fear crashed onto her like a falling rock off a cliff. It was all too much. She was way over her head and the story of how the girls were forced to steal spilled out of her without any resistance but she was snapped awake by Merton's appearance at Miss Fisher's doorstep. Terror took hold of her once again. He would kill her. Miss Fisher assured her she was safe, but it wasn't enough. She didn't know what Merton was capable of. He would hurt Miss Fisher too. Jane couldn't let him do that. She wasn't proud of having locked Dot in, but she had to do what she had to do and in that moment it meant protecting Miss Fisher.

Jane couldn't find suitable words to explain the relief and exhilaration she felt when the Inspector had told them that Gay and Merton had been arrested. She doubted she would ever be able to do so, but it came in second to the joy she felt for Ruth when he told them that they had been able to contact her Grandmother. It took some seconds before Jane came to realise that she hadn't been that lucky. Not even the Police had been able to find her mother.

That night, as Miss Fisher sat on her bed, Jane asked the dreaded question. Without any family, she would certainly be sent to welfare. Miss Fisher might not be able to do it, but she wasn't a nice girl and while it might mean going back to the orphanage, Jane couldn't lie to her. Hearing it wasn't a hindrance at all, enveloped Jane in such a sense of comfort it felt as if she had been wrapped in a warm blanket after spending hours in the cold.

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A/n: Thank you for reading this chapter.

There are bits from the show that I obviously had to incorporate here. I hope I didn't make them a disservice. Those parts you recognise aren't obviously mine, I just expanded upon them.

I hope you enjoyed it. I'd love to hear from you.


	5. Chapter 5

Adapting to life at Wardlow had felt like breaking in a pair of new shoes. It had taken her some time to feel like she truly belonged there, to the school she was going to, that she fitted into that aleatory but close-knit family. Jane was happy she was living there and felt immensely thankful for it and for the people around her but in the beginning, the lurking feeling that it might go up in smoke at any second hit her unexpectedly many times a day.

She hadn't been feeling secure for long when her mother had returned. From afar, she wasn't even sure it was her at first, but just the thought had been enough to rattle her. Maybe if she didn't show herself, her mother wouldn't know she was there and nothing would change.

But things changed nevertheless. For a while, the self-defence class at the Flower Maiden rehearsal had been distraction enough but hearing Dot say the visitor claimed to be her mother erased that easiness in less than a breath. The fear Jane thought she had been able to dominate jumped out of her again and got mixed up with the possibility that her mother might not recognise her and she became sad instead.

It didn't happen, as promised by Miss Fisher, her mother did know who she was, but she still felt skittish and apprehensive. Something started to rise in her chest, a nagging and alarming feeling which end she couldn't even start to imagine. It loomed over her as a cloud and no matter how terrible and unworthy it made her feel, sending her mother on her way had seemed the only thing to do until she could devise a better plan.

Learning that the adoption papers had never been signed pushed Jane over the edge. The threat of being taken away from Miss Fisher, Dot, Mr Butler, Cec, Burt, Doctor Mac, Inspector Robinson, Hugh, Aunt Prudence, her friends and her books and what she finally thought of as her life had felt so terrifying, Jane had panicked and that's why she had come to her mother with the adoption documents.

That didn't mean that she didn't love her. Jane did, hadn't forgotten her and she prayed for her every night, not exactly like Dot had taught her but still. _I pray that my mother is safe if she's alive and if she's not I pray that she has her much needed repose at last._ But after so many tries and failures, a part of Jane had accepted she had to let go of her mother. Seeing her come back had made all those feelings bubble up and confuse her. Jane didn't compare them as such but could she still love her mother and Miss Fisher at the same time? Could she still be happy with her own life knowing that it might make her mother feel left out? Would she be able to go back to taking care of her mother knowing now what life could hold? Did having those doubts make her a bad person?

Nevertheless, the old pangs of guilt followed her too and that's why she had tried to atone for her action with things her mother might need and her company.

Sitting with her as she read Lawson's poem aloud had been nice for a bit, agreeable, and almost like the old days when her mother felt better, but Jane couldn't give up what had brought her there.

Her mother's escalating energy didn't bode well. That also felt like the old days and Jane's stomach clenched. Jane felt trapped. This time, she wasn't the one with a hold on things, trying to keep everything in one piece. She tried to soldier on, get back on her feet, but the bite of cake and what it unleashed was more than a setback she could handle. Jane was scared obviously, a rush of the moments when she had felt similarly around her mother starting to flash in her mind and in her limbs. It didn't happen often, but when those episodes took place, her mother's reactions were unpredictable because Anna was deeply scared herself. Jane had to get out of there and get help, but her mother wouldn't relent, deep in her hallucination. A man's voice on the other side of the door startled them both. Anna held on to her. That was her husband, he had certainly come to avenge the fact that she hadn't stopped him from going to war and dying so far away from home, that was the time, all the other instances had been just warnings.

«We must escape now. He's at the door, we can't go that way, but maybe we can stall him with gas and exit through the window», her mother said, her voice quick. She repeated her plan continuously like a prayer as she rotated the buttons on the stove, holding Jane's wrist tightly in her hand.

«We must go, we have to go now or he will get to us.»

«Mother, no one will get to us», Jane tried to plead but to no avail. She didn't know how to get to her, and the screaming landlord wasn't helping at all. «It's just the landlord. He's angry, but I'll talk to him. Everything will be alright».

«We must go, we have to go now or he will get to us.»

«Mother».

«We must go, we have to go now or he will get to us.», Anna started to take off her clothes with one hand. «We must go, we have to go now or he will get to us. The dresses are going to get stuck in the roof tiles, we have to leave them. We must go, we have to go now or he will get to us».

«Mother, stop», Jane hated herself for it, but she was crying now. This was nothing like what they had ever been through.

«If you don't want to come, I will. We must go, we have to go now or he will get to us», Anna was in her underclothes and out the window, letting go of Jane's wrist before she had noticed it.

Jane yelped and followed her. She wouldn't be able to recall how she had done it afterwards, but through the sheer panic that enveloped her, Jane was able to manage getting a hold of her mother with one arm and around a chimney with the other.

Anna had stopped talking and the hurried alertness in her eyes had been replaced by a void expression but she kept reaching out to the empty space ahead of them.

Seeing Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson at the window was like a vision, her deepest wishes coming true, but her fear wasn't enough to let Jane feel any relief until she was safe and sound in Miss Fisher's arms after the inspector had come to help them, himself holding a rather quiet Anna now.

In spite of the ordeal she had just been through and how frightened she had felt, an overwhelming wave of love had seized her and Jane wanted nothing else but to help her mother.

«I'm sorry I didn't tell you», she apologised to Miss Fisher, the range of emotions felt in that such period of time catching up with her and Jane couldn't do anything else but cry.

* * *

A/n: Thank you for reading this chapter too.

As it happened in the previous part, I incorporated some scenes from the actual episode in this one and expanded from there.

I hope once again that it still feels in line with the show and the rest of the fic.


	6. Chapter 6

«Mother», Jane said, making an effort not to fidget with the curtain of the bay window.

Anna smiled at her and Jane thought she wouldn't be able to carry on with what she meant to say.

«Yes, my sweet girl».

«You know I love you», Jane paused and looked at her mother's eyes.

«I know. I love you too». Anna touched her face.

«And I want nothing but the best for you.»

Her mother nodded.

«I know of a place where you can be happy, and they can help you».

It had been really hard for Jane to say those words, each of them heavy with the possibility they would push her mother away from her and from reality once again.

«I'm listening», her mother said, her voice more open than what Jane had expected.

«You can live there, they have beautiful lawns, a vegetable garden, and there's art classes. I have visited it myself and I think you might like to live there».

Her mother kept looking at her.

Jane ventured a little bit further.

« And when you're not feeling very well, they will help you too.»

Anna's eyes hardened at those words. Those were the moments she was most afraid of.

«Not like how they did it at the hospital, I promise», Jane squeezed her mother's hands, wanting to make up for any reassurance her words might lack.

« It's called Aster House and it's run by Romilly, she's a friend of Dr. Mac. You can talk to her, if you want, and…and visit».

Anna lowered her gaze. She knew it was a lifetime opportunity but she was still afraid nevertheless.

«It's true that there aren't many flowers like that here, but it's a beautiful name, isn't it? Did you know Aster means 'star'? It comes from the Greek», Jane said, smiling weakly. Her love for words had come from her mother and she meant to appeal to that. «It's said those flowers mean patience, elegance, love of variety, and daintiness or faith, wisdom, and valour, depending on the book», Jane let out a small laugh.

Her mother chuckled too.

«I… I think I would like to talk to that lady. Romilly, is it?», she said, more seriously.

«Yes, she's nice. You'll like her.», Jane said, «and she reminds me of Aunt Helen, in a way. She gets things done.»

Jane wasn't sure if she should regret the words she had just said. They had never talked about Aunt Helen since her death.

«I'll probably like her then», Anna smiled at her daughter. «I miss Helen», she sighed.

«I do too».

«Everything will be alright, my dear girl», Anna kissed her daughter's forehead and hugged her.

Jane didn't reply, choosing to hug her mother back instead.

* * *

A/n: And here is the conclusion to this month's fic. I hope I was respectful to all the characters, especially Anna and her particular circumstances. I believe the show was and I aim to do the same.

I hope you liked it.

Thanks in advance for feedback.

Bring on March.


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